


Under The Arizona Sun

by perdiccas



Category: Heroes - Fandom
Genre: Ensemble - Freeform, First Time, Future Fic, Multi, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-07-15
Updated: 2009-07-15
Packaged: 2017-10-02 10:51:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/perdiccas/pseuds/perdiccas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a world where Sylar chose to go with Micah after saving him from Danko's men, Sylar has become Gabriel, again, fighting at Rebel's side. When events push Mohinder and Gabriel into closer quarters than usual, Mohinder discovers he means more to Gabriel than he ever expected and that perhaps, Gabriel means more to him. But, it's up to Mohinder to guide them through the transition from friends to lovers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Sweet Charity 2009.
> 
> _Runner Up Best Fluff at the Heroes Slash Awards Summer 2009_

The buildings of Coyote Sands are now glass and chrome where they were once wood, but they share the same foundations. The guns are gone and in their place, Rebel’s Underground patrols the perimeter with their abilities. Computers have replaced the old projector; Mohinder stands in his father’s footsteps. Yet, the playground has stayed, rusting metal monkey bars stripped and painted over, and in the narrow strip of yellowing lawn between the dorms and lab, the picnic benches are still there too.

Even with the south wall of the cafeteria to shield them from the worst of it, the desert wind is dry and hot. It leaves sand in their hair and in the corners of their eyes, lodged in the cracks in their raw, chapped lips and settling like dust over their food. Molly’s hair whips around her face with the breeze and she giggles wildly, struggling to tie it back. Her face is pink and her freckles dark; in a week or two, it will be too hot to eat outdoors, even in the shade of the newly rebuilt lab. But until then, they’ll eat at the picnic tables, complaining about the grit in their corn and the ice in their soda that melts in seconds, the air around them heavy with the aroma of SPF 30 and the sweat that trickles down their backs.

The scorching heat and the burning wind are a small price to pay for a regular spot to themselves. They laugh and chatter and tease each other for their frizzy hair in the desert climate, and with each passing second Mohinder despairs that he could have ever thought it wise to send his daughter away. It is luck, and luck alone, that has kept her safe in his most selfish moments; Molly’s forgiveness has been far easier to obtain than his own.

But, it won’t be the weather that brings the inevitable end to their lunches just for two, or the bitter memories of betrayal. Molly’s taller now, and more filled out. A growth spurt at boarding school has left Mohinder with a young woman where he had known a girl. She’s talking to him but looking distracted, pushing her dessert around her plate and playing with her fork.

“Why are you so fidgety today?”

“No reason,” she murmurs. The discreet glance she gives her watch doesn’t go unnoticed.

“And, is this ‘no reason’ something you’re going to be late for?” he teases.

The sunburn on Molly’s cheeks can’t hide her blush.

“It’s nothing. It’s stupid…” She fiddles with her hair and Mohinder waits. In a rush she blurts, “Only, Micah asked me to have ice cream with him after lunch but I have to babysit for Janice at two and if I don’t go soon, I won’t have time to see him before I have to be there and--”

“Go.”

“Really?”

Mohinder nods; Molly’s sudden smile almost takes away the sting of being second best. She rounds the table in an instant and flings her arms around his neck.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” she babbles.

“Okay, it’s okay. Go on then!”

She gives him one more squeeze and a peck on the cheek, grinning from ear to ear as she pulls away. For a second, her gaze lingers over Mohinder’s shoulder.

“Hey, Gabriel,” she says shyly.

“Hey, Molly.”

Mohinder twists around quickly, starting to find Gabriel so unexpectedly _close_ beside him. Molly giggles and Gabriel chuckles, and Mohinder has to bite his tongue, groaning when he wants to curse. For as long as Mohinder’s lunch with Molly has been a routine, so has this, Gabriel sneaking up behind him, holding him hostage for idle chit chat. Without fail, he finds a way to take Mohinder by surprise and without fail, he and Molly share the joke at the expense of Mohinder’s ruffled composure.

As Molly darts away, Mohinder calls, “Be good and don’t be late for babysitting!” but he can’t be sure she’s heard.

In the silence, Gabriel sighs, “They grow up so fast, don’t they?”

Mohinder rolls his eyes, regarding Gabriel coolly. “Do you really have nothing better to do than harass me every day?”

“Now, now, Mohinder,” Gabriel soothes. He tries to pat Mohinder’s hand but Mohinder snatches it away with a good natured scowl. “Don’t sell yourself short. I’ll always make time for you.”

Before Mohinder can retort and fall into the easy give and take of trading barbs, Gabriel’s telekinesis pulls Molly’s abandoned lunch tray into his hands.

“Do you wanna to see my nifty new trick?”

The plates float into a neat pile at the edge of the table and Gabriel holds the now empty metal tray by a thumb and forefinger at each end. With no effort at all, he snaps the tray in two. Mohinder gasps and Gabriel smirks. He stacks both halves together and snaps them again, and again, and again, each sharp crack cutting through the howling wind and ringing in Mohinder’s ears. When dozens of tiny metallic shards litter the table, Gabriel gathers them all telekinetically up in his palm and closes his fist around them. He opens his hand to let Mohinder see the small ball of crushed metal.

“Pretty neat, right?”

“What… How did you…?” Mohinder splutters.

Gabriel simply raises one infuriating eyebrow and lazily shrugs his shoulders, waiting for Mohinder to come to the only logical conclusion: “_Empathy_.”

“Bingo!”

“But that can’t be possible…”

Gabriel leans in disconcertingly close and whispers in his ear, “I guess I know you a bit better than you’d like to think, huh, doc?”

Mohinder’s mind is reeling and a dozen questions are on the tip of his tongue, but Peter’s suddenly at Gabriel’s side.

“Gabriel, sorry to interrupt, but we’re moving out in five.”

Gabriel stands and stretches, cracking his back after being hunched into the low seat of the picnic bench. He tosses the crumpled metal at Mohinder, laughing softly at his indignant squawk when Mohinder has to really reach to catch it.

“I’d love to stay and chat about our _special connection_,” he murmurs. “But duty calls.”

As Gabriel shrugs, he changes shape, becoming shorter and squatter, a face Mohinder’s never seen before sliding into place.

“Catch you later,” he says before he and Peter blink out of sight.

***

Molly’s long been put to bed but Mohinder’s still in his lab. He pointedly ignores the metal ball that’s glinting on his desk. He forces his mind to focus, instead, on the charts at hand. Mohinder nearly jumps out of his skin when Gabriel clears his throat behind him.

“Can’t you ever use the door like a normal person?” he snaps.

He catches the box that flies towards him as Gabriel steps out of the shadows, bright white teeth reflecting the low light as a wicked grin spreads across his face.

“What’s this?”

“Tea.”

Mohinder turns the box in his hands, running his fingers over the all too familiar packaging. He hadn’t put more than ‘tea’ on the requisition form, happy to take whatever Peter could find in the neighbouring backwoods towns, but Gabriel has given him _chai_. And not the overly sweet, bastardised version from Starbucks either, this is the same brand his father had brought with him from India, the same brand Mohinder had shared with Sylar. It isn’t something likely to be found at a five and dime store in rural Arizona. Mohinder shakes off his confusion and drops the box roughly on his desk. He restlessly straightens a stack of papers to occupy his hands.

“You didn’t have to bring that here,” he says gruffly. “I requisitioned other supplies; I could’ve picked it all up in the morning together.”

“What, and miss this rare expression of gratitude?” Gabriel snorts.

Mohinder sighs and turns to face him, crossing his arms in front of his chest. Softly, he says, “What do you _want_, Gabriel?”

“Nothing! I saw the light on, knew you’d be working late and thought you might appreciate some tea. That’s all.” Mohinder raises his eyebrows sceptically and Gabriel scowls. “What, I can’t do something nice, once in a while?”

“Not usually, no.”

***

In all of Coyote Sands, where every brick seems set upon a grave and every floorboard conceals a skeleton, the conference room is the only place Mohinder truly loathes. It’s a vortex where, once trapped inside, minutes stretch to interminable hours and hours seem like endless days. The weekly meetings had been Nathan’s idea, and just like any politician, he succeeds in filling them with never ending red tape and micromanaging, spouting buzzwords and long term goals that mean little in the day to day grind of what they do. Mohinder sits in the corner, doodling in the back of his notebook, letting Nathan’s droning voice wash over him. Around him, the others are slumped in their chairs, resigned; Claire and Peter pass notes like they’re in study hall.

Gabriel, of course, has to make to a scene when he saunters in half an hour late with a mug of coffee and Danish pastry. Nathan pauses midsentence, and all the room turns to look. Mohinder keeps his head down, refusing to encourage Gabriel’s bad behaviour. For his trouble, Gabriel pointedly takes the empty seat beside him and settles in close enough that their knees knock together underneath the table. Mohinder shakes his head and tries to scoot away, but the legs of his chair catch on the floor and a piercing wail of metal dragged across the tiles has Nathan stopping for a second time.

“Problem, Suresh?”

“Uh, no?” Mohinder flushes, sinking deep into his seat with a sidelong glare at Gabriel. Above his coffee, Gabriel grins.

“All right then. If everyone is done playing musical chairs, I’ll continue. We’ve got three families coming in today from Ohio. Seven kids between them; at least five have manifested and some of the parents too. There was some trouble in their hometown and these people are _scared_. So everyone needs to do their best to put them at their ease: no big displays of power, no drama.” Nathan hesitates long enough to throw a meaningful look at Gabriel. “They need to be reassured that having an ability doesn’t preclude them from leading normal lives.”

The room is filled with low murmurs of agreement and shuffling papers. Peter stands to leave, others moving to follow, but Nathan puts his hand on his shoulder. “Hang on, Pete. Not quite done yet.”

“Now as you can imagine,” he continues, addressing the room. “Twelve extra people is going to be a tight fit. It’s only for three days but we’re going to be tripping over each other and the last thing we need are tempers flaring. We’re going to need to free up a room or two to give our guests some privacy, so who’s going to volunteer to double up?”

No one will catch anyone else’s eye and there’s a thick silence as everyone waits for someone else to give up their bed for a stranger.

Eventually, Gabriel pipes up with, “Molly can squeeze in with Matt and Janice, and Mohinder can bunk with me.”

“What?” Mohinder hisses.

“Okay, that’s settled.”

This time, people move quicker, heading to the door before Nathan can think of one more point to add to make the meeting longer. Mohinder’s protests of, “No! I haven’t agreed to this!” are drowned out in the rush. He’s left in a mostly empty conference room with Gabriel’s dirty coffee mug at his elbow and nothing else. His cell phone beeps with an incoming message: ETA 30 MINUTES – REBEL.

Peter pops his head around the door. “Come on, Mohinder. You’d better pack some stuff and get Molly settled. They’ll be here soon and we’re gonna have a lot of work to do.”

***

Gabriel answers the door barefoot and with a toothbrush hanging out of his mouth. He’s wearing a pair of cotton pyjama pants and an undershirt, deliberately glancing at his watch as he steps aside to let Mohinder in.

“Yes, it’s late,” Mohinder grumbles. “But some of us have more to do than the weekly shopping.”

Mohinder’s never been in Gabriel’s room before; it’s small for one and for two, tiny. Along the far wall there’s a bookshelf and a desk and on the other, a small sink that Gabriel spits loudly into. Mohinder shudders and looks critically at the narrow single bed that takes up the bulk of the floor space. At least Gabriel seems neat to a fault. If Mohinder lived in such close quarters, he’d be tripping over books and papers whenever he tried to move.

“Where should I--?” Mohinder tries but Gabriel grunts. When Mohinder looks up, he’s brushing his teeth for a second time, holding up a finger to get Mohinder to wait. This time, when Gabriel spits, it’s more obscene than before and Mohinder grimaces in disgust.

“Was that really necessary?”

“I’m surprised at you, Mohinder. Oral hygiene is very important. Besides you never know when fresh breath might be required.” He waggles his eyebrows lewdly but Mohinder shakes it off, refusing to rise to the bait when they’re stuck together for two more days.

“Could you just tell me where I can set this up?” Mohinder nods at the ancient camp bed he’s carrying. It’s heavy and musty, military issue; he thinks it’s one of the few relics the Petrellis kept from the original site.

Gabriel flicks his wrist and telekinetically drags his bed flush against his desk. There’s a thin strip of space that might just fit the cot. If not for the height difference that means Mohinder will be sleeping a scant few inches from the floor, Mohinder might have had to make a point that they sleep top to tail, their mattresses would be that close. If Gabriel needs to get up in the night, he’s certain to land face first on Mohinder’s sleeping form.

Mohinder wrestles the bed into position, hyperaware of Gabriel’s gaze as he watches with a bemused expression while Mohinder struggles. The joints are rusty and squeal as they’re moved; the canvas is moth eaten and dangerously threadbare. Even if he can set the damn thing up without killing himself, Mohinder reckons it’ll likely collapse under him in the night. Just when he thinks he’s got it right, one of the legs snaps down and traps his finger.

“Goddammit! Ow!” Mohinder yelps. The metal creaks as Gabriel yanks back the bar and frees him.

“Let me,” he says with withering condescension.

Gabriel tackles one end and Mohinder the other as they crouch side by side in the narrow space. The metal between them creaks ominously as it’s caught in a tug of war of wills and enhanced strength. They pull the bars and slats this way and that, every move one makes seeming to undo the progress of the other. Finally, Mohinder grabs one stubborn bar and _tugs_, whacking his head against the wall behind as the metal wrenches free and he overbalances backwards.

“Are you--?” Gabriel reaches for him, but Mohinder slaps his hands away.

“Will you please just let me do this myself?” Mohinder growls through gritted teeth.

“Fine!”

Gabriel stands and paces the room while Mohinder breathes deeply and does his best to ignore him, refusing to admit that with one of the bed’s legs broken off, figuring out how to assemble it is the least of his worries. Finally, in a fit of petulance, Mohinder throws the broken metal bar at the bed and sits back on his heels, seething.

“I can’t believe you’re still so pissed about this,” Gabriel mutters, mostly under his breath but loud enough for Mohinder to hear and catch the implication that Gabriel thinks he’s being ridiculous.

“Oh really, Gabriel? And how exactly did you expect me to react? Did you want me to be jumping up and down that you’ve disrupted my routine? Clapping my hands in joy that I’ve been rousted from my bed without anyone once checking to see if I was okay with that? I barely see Molly as it is and now I don’t even get to say goodnight to her. So, I’m sorry, Gabriel, that my bad mood is inconveniencing you.”

Calmly, Gabriel hands him a cordless phone. “So say goodnight and stop being so melodramatic.”

Mohinder snatches it from him, giving a wordless grunt that’s one part _thanks_ to two parts _fuck you_, and steps outside to make the call.

When he gets back, the camp bed is made, the broken leg soldered back together and probably in better condition than it started in. Gabriel is sitting up in bed with a book in his lap and the covers pulled up to his chin. Wordlessly, Mohinder unrolls his sleeping bag and settles down to sleep. He punches his pillow, tossing and turning to try to get comfortable. Every movement Gabriel makes, from the turn of a page to the rustle of the sheets, seems purposely designed to prevent Mohinder from forgetting he’s there. He scrunches his eyes shut and, failing all else, tries to count sheep.

He’s at fifty-seven and none the closer to sleep when Gabriel clears his throat. “I’m sorry, okay?”

Mohinder snorts and leaves it at that.

Gabriel’s book slams shut and it’s slapped violently down on the desk that serves as a bedside table. “You want to know the truth, Mohinder?”

Mohinder whips around to face him, white knuckling the sides of the cot as it lurches sickeningly beneath him. “Yes,” he sneers. “Enlighten me, please.”

“Fine. The truth is, the only way there would be enough space is if someone shared with me and we both know that if we’d had to wait around for volunteers for _that_, we’d have been waiting a hell of a long time. You’re the only person here besides Micah who considers me a friend and I didn’t think it would be such a big deal. Clearly, I was wrong and I’m sorry.”

The lights shut off dramatically and in the darkness, Mohinder rolls his eyes. He tries to hold on to his anger and his indignation, to keep his irritation at all of Gabriel’s quirks at the forefront of his mind, but Gabriel’s confession has taken the bite out of his bad mood. The longer he stares at the ceiling, his every sigh punctuated with the creak of the ancient camp bed, the worse he feels. He thinks about the metal ball that he’d kept instead of trashed, and about how underneath his annoyance, he’d come to look forward to their daily post-lunch chats. He remembers that Gabriel is the only one to ever think to bring him tea when he’s working late. Against his better judgement, Mohinder props himself up on one elbow and turns to face Gabriel’s bed.

“Gabriel,” he says softly.

“Forget it, Mohinder. Just go to sleep.”

But, Mohinder’s never been good at doing what he’s told. Instead, he wriggles out of his sleeping bag, near up-ending the cot in process and sits on the edge of Gabriel’s bed. The mattress is even narrower than he had first imagined and to keep his balance, Mohinder finds his hip is pressed to the small of Gabriel’s back. Even through the sheets he’s swaddled in, Mohinder can feel the heat of his body. Mohinder reaches out blindly in the blackness, aiming for a shoulder and latching to Gabriel’s upper arm instead. Deciding that that’s close enough, Mohinder squeezes gently.

“It’s not true, you know. About having no friends?” he whispers.

Gabriel makes a small, disbelieving noise in the back of his throat and stiffens under Mohinder’s hand. It’s been months since any of them have thought of him as _Sylar_; he’s free to roam the grounds without escort and Peter sends him on solo-missions without qualms. It shouldn’t be hard to name someone, _anyone_, who is close to him. But, the truth is that the Petrellis see everyone in terms of how they can use them and Matt’s trust isn’t trust at all but what he can see in Gabriel’s mind. There isn’t one among them who wouldn’t gladly sink a knife into the back of Gabriel’s skull at the first sign that it was warranted. And it’s a depressing realisation to think that perhaps, Gabriel is right, and the only ones who’d truly mourn him are he and Micah.

Mohinder rubs Gabriel’s arm sadly in lieu of anything else to say. Finally, he settles on, “If Molly can forgive you…”

“Micah put in a good word for me,” Gabriel mumbles into the pillows.

“That boy has altogether too much influence on her,” Mohinder mutters darkly, but Gabriel laughs.

“You don’t need to worry, Mohinder. She has him wrapped around her little finger.”

Mohinder turns the light back on and looks at Gabriel blinking up at him, bleary eyed and near sighted, huddled miserably under the blankets. He glances around the room at everything set up for one; one chair at the small corner table; one mug left out to dry beside the sink; the single bed that could never comfortably hold two. His eyes linger on the frames on the walls, still filled with the stock photographs from when the builders hung them there, where Mohinder’s have long since held countless different shots of Molly. He remembers Zane and how alike that persona was to who Gabriel is now, and he recalls, above all else, how fundamentally lonely that man had been before Mohinder came along.

Mohinder brushes Gabriel’s hair back from his eyes and trails one finger along the line of his jaw. Without thinking too much about it, Mohinder leans down and kisses Gabriel softly, like he’d always intended to kiss Zane. Gabriel’s mouth parts slowly and Mohinder slips his tongue delicately between his lips. It’s gentle and sweet and a little shy, and nothing like how Mohinder imagined _Sylar_ could ever be.

“Mm,” Mohinder hums as he pulls away, fingers still carding soothingly through Gabriel’s hair. Gabriel stares at him, uncharacteristically quiet and with a wary expression that Mohinder can’t quite decipher. He touches his fingers to his lips, drawing back when Mohinder leans in to kiss him again.

“Uh…”

“Uh?” Mohinder asks.

“I… I wasn’t expecting that,” Gabriel murmurs.

“Don't overthink it,” Mohinder whispers. They have the rest of their lives to wonder if this is a mistake, but tonight, right now, Mohinder wants to show Gabriel that there's no reason he should feel so alone.

“After all,” he teases, when Gabriel stays quiet. “You’ve been flirting with me since the moment you got here.”

“I have not been flirting with you!” Gabriel yelps, sitting fast enough to nearly knock their heads together.

Mohinder snorts and shakes his head, scarcely believing the indignant look on Gabriel’s face. “Really? Then what’s with sitting at my table after lunch every day? Accosting me every chance you get? Everywhere I go, you pop up, usually with some snide remark, and you’re pathologically incapable of keeping your hands to yourself!”

“That isn’t flirting!” Gabriel sputters. Mohinder stares at him incredulously as he rambles on. “That’s… that’s because sometimes annoying you is the only way to get your attention, Mohinder. If you had it your way, you would have blanked me from the day I arrived and now, we’d be on no better terms than we were before. We’re supposed to be working together now. I’m on your side! And it’s an uphill battle to get anyone to give me a second chance. It’s not my fault you make it so easy to get under your skin.”

Gabriel sits back against the headboard with a huff; there’s a sinking feeling in the pit of Mohinder’s stomach. As much as he hates to admit it, what Gabriel’s said makes sense. “Right.”

Mohinder clears his throat in the awkward silence.

“So… you’re not, um, interested…?” He waves his hands between them and resists the urge to curl up in his sleeping bag and pretend that nothing untoward had happened.

Gabriel’s biting his lip hard enough to blanch his skin. He won’t meet Mohinder’s eye. Finally, he says quietly, “I don’t know. I’ve never really thought about it.”

Mohinder thinks that, as blows to the ego go, never having been considered is far worse than being found wanting.

“Never?”

“Well, maybe… but that was so long ago and before you even knew who I was. I didn’t expect… To be honest, I didn’t expect you to ever talk to me again.”

Gabriel twists the sheets between his fingers. He looks at Mohinder unsurely and Mohinder nods his understanding.

“I mean, you did bash my skull in that one time,” Gabriel adds lightly.

Mohinder laughs and Gabriel laughs shyly, too, leaning into Mohinder’s touch when Mohinder punches him playfully on the arm. “I remember. You deserved it.”

They sit for a moment in a mostly comfortable silence; Mohinder leaves his hand on Gabriel’s arm.

Eventually, Mohinder presses his lips chastely to Gabriel’s temple and strokes his cheek, smiling at Gabriel’s small, contented sigh.

“Now that we’re talking again, Gabriel, why don’t you think about it?”

When Gabriel smiles, Mohinder pets his hair one last time and settles himself back in the sleeping bag. The lights click off and, when Mohinder closes his eyes, he finds that sleep is much closer than it was before. He’s on the verge of drifting off when Gabriel calls, “Mohinder?”

“Mm?”

“How long, exactly, have you had the hots for me?”

Mohinder rolls his eyes and rolls over, smothering his grin in his pillow. “Go to sleep, Gabriel.”


	2. Chapter 2

When Mohinder wakes, it’s with a crick in his back and pleasant memories of the night before, but Gabriel’s gone.

He tries not to worry that Gabriel didn’t wake him to say goodbye, because it’s still early after all and Gabriel knows him well enough to know that Mohinder’s not a morning person. Weekly meetings or not, they don’t always know each other’s missions, and, with a plethora of abilities at his disposal, Gabriel’s often sent to places that Nathan deems it best that the rest of Rebel’s forces aren’t aware of. If he thinks about it, the only thing Mohinder knows for certain of Gabriel’s schedule is that for twenty minutes every day, directly after lunch, he makes himself a royal pain in Mohinder’s ass. And up until this morning, that’s all that it seemed important for him to know.

Mohinder doesn’t have long to dwell. He spends all morning cataloguing abilities, cajoling demonstrations from shy children who’ve been told all their lives to never ever let anyone know who they really are. There’s a timid girl whose skin turns to steel when she’s scared, an ability that has had her family run out of more than one town. He teaches her deep breathing exercises and leaves her parents with anti-anxiety meds for when all else fails.

***

It’s long been dark when Mohinder’s stomach rumbles. The dregs of his coffee have gone ice cold. He checks his watch and groans. Nine pm; he’s missed dinner by two hours.

Mohinder heads to the rec room, aiming for the vending machines in desperation. The lights are on and through the windows, Mohinder can hear the low murmur of the television. Inside, there’s a movie playing, projected onto a big screen. Everyone seems to have piled in, squashed four or five to a sofa or sitting cross-legged on cushions on the floor, the families passing through and the rest of Rebel’s team alike.

In the furthest back corner, Gabriel sits on a sofa by himself.

Mohinder scans the room, trying to plot the best way through the crowd without tripping over anyone, when the back of Molly’s head catches his eye. He sidles up behind her. She and Micah are sharing a sofa with two of the older kids from Ohio. They have a blanket thrown over their knees and, resting on the garish plaid, Molly’s hand is entwined with Micah’s. Mohinder clears his throat and they both jump; Molly glares at him while Micah drops her hand and wipes his palm frantically against his thigh. Mohinder can’t quite keep himself from grinning as all around them, people are hissing, “Shhh!”

He pecks Molly on the forehead and does his best to look stern. She only rolls her eyes and slumps back against the cushions, while Micah sits with his back ram-rod straight, his arms crossed over his chest and both hands tucked nervously under his elbows. Walking backwards to keep them in his line of sight, Mohinder settles down next to Gabriel.

“Hi,” Gabriel mouths.

“Hi,” Mohinder whispers back. Then, his stomach growls ferociously and a dozen heads turn to shush him again.

Under his breath, Mohinder groans. The vending machines are across the room, and he’s getting enough death stares in the near-darkness as it is. Gabriel taps the toe of his shoe against Mohinder’s heel to get his attention, angling the bowl of popcorn in his lap towards him.

It isn’t much, but it’s warm, more salty than buttery, just the way Mohinder likes and that’s enough to take the edge off his hunger. He wolfs down the popcorn and every so often, when he dips into the bowl for more, the back of his hand brushes the back of Gabriel’s hand and they look at each other shyly and smile. As the movie plays and the popcorn gets eaten, Mohinder shifts closer to Gabriel until they’re pressed together from shoulder to hip to knee and ankle. Mohinder licks his fingers clean and rests his hand on Gabriel’s thigh. After a moment’s hesitation, Gabriel’s butter-slick fingers twist with his.

The light from the projector flickers over Gabriel’s face, and Mohinder spends more time glancing at Gabriel’s profile, the curve of his nose and the dark line of his brow, than he does watching the film. When Gabriel catches him staring, his lips curve into a small half-smile and Mohinder’s stomach feels warm from more than just the food.

After the credits have rolled and the lights are turned up, Mohinder reluctantly pulls away, sliding his hand from under Gabriel’s palm with an apologetic smile.

“Thanks for the popcorn,” he murmurs.

“My pleasure,” Gabriel whispers.

They look into each other’s eyes. Gabriel’s lips twitch like he’s about to say something more, when Micah twists around, his eyes peeking over the back of the sofa as he mumbles, “Uh… Mohinder?”

In the now mostly empty room, Mohinder can hear the tell-tale sound of Molly softly snoring. She’s fallen asleep with her head on Micah’s shoulder. Micah’s staring at Mohinder, face caught in a forced smile, and for a moment, Mohinder feels bad for playing the ogre in what should be his daughter’s first fairytale romance. Then, he remembers what it was like to be fourteen, all hormones and racing heart, and hands that wandered unless slapped away, and he decides that there’s nothing wrong with a little healthy fear.

Mohinder shakes Molly's shoulder gently. “Wake up, sweetheart. It's time for bed.”

It takes a while to rouse her from the kind of sleep that only teenagers seem to sink into, but soon she's mumbling, rubbing her eyes with the back of her hand. She flushes, restlessly tucking her hair behind her ears, when she realises it's Micah been leaning on. Micah scoots to the far end of the sofa, his hands twisting nervously in his lap.

“Come on, kids,” Mohinder says. “It's a school night.”

Micah might be their rebel leader, but Monica doesn't think that means he doesn't need an education. She fits their lessons around their missions, and more than once, Mohinder's found Molly doing math homework with her right hand, while with her left she flicks through an atlas finding people who need to be found.

They both grumble their protests but stand and stretch anyway.

“I can walk you back to Matt's?” Micah offers.

Molly glances at Mohinder, and, aware that it won't be long before she stops turning to him for permission, Mohinder nods his head.

“Sure,” she says softly.

Molly gives him a kiss a goodnight, waving shyly at Gabriel where he stands, still half hidden in the corner shadows. “G'night.”

“Night,” Gabriel replies.

“Molly?” Mohinder calls when they're two steps from the door. “I'll give Matt a call in fifteen minutes. I expect him to tell me that you're in your pyjamas and brushing your teeth...”

Without turning, Molly gives a long suffering sigh. “_Yes_, Mohinder.”

“I love you, Molly.”

Looking over her shoulder, Molly says, “I love you, too.”

***

They meander back to Gabriel's room slowly, falling into a comfortable silence once the idle, “Did you enjoy the film?” _et cetera_ that comes with nerves has passed.

Close enough to feel the heat from Gabriel's skin against his arm, Gabriel's fingertips graze across Mohinder's knuckles. The simple, unexpected touch makes Mohinder's legs feel weak and his chest feel tight, warmth fluttering in his gut. Gabriel snatches his hand back, blushing, and stutters, “Sorry.”

But, Mohinder reaches out to him and hooks his little finger around Gabriel's, tugging him nearer once more. Gabriel's finger curls tightly around his and they walk the rest of the way with their hands swinging together between them, pinkies linked and acting more like silly teenagers than Mohinder's ever caught Molly and Micah doing.

As soon as they're through Gabriel's door, Gabriel hands Mohinder the phone. Mohinder looks from the phone to Gabriel and back at him, confused.

“To call Matt?” Gabriel prompts.

“Oh!” Mohinder laughs and shakes his head. “I needn’t bother. Poor Micah's been terrified of me ever since I gave him a quick demo of my power. Molly might try to twist his arm, but that boy's got too good a sense of self-preservation to be won over.”

Gabriel chuckles. “You shouldn't be so hard on him. Micah's a good kid.”

“I know,” Mohinder murmurs. “But even good kids sometimes do bad things.”

As if to demonstrate, he steps closer until their chests are nearly touching, and rests his hands on Gabriel's hips. Leaning on him lightly for balance, Mohinder tilts up on the tips of his toes and presses a kiss to Gabriel's lips. Their mouths taste like popcorn; teeth still with a butter film and their lips chapped and salty. But the kiss itself is soft and slow, Gabriel's arms winding around Mohinder's middle and drawing him nearer. Their end-of-day stubble scratches together, leaving them with red, plumped lips and raw skin that tingles. When Mohinder pulls away, Gabriel ducks down to follow, brushing his lips against his mouth once more.

“Good night,” he says, the words humming against Mohinder's lips.

“Sweet dreams,” Mohinder replies, running his hand over Gabriel's chest, pressing his palm over his heart to feel the strong thrum of its beat.

***

“Where’s your lunch?” Mohinder asks as Molly meets him at their table, empty handed and with her hair neatly brushed and tied back, for once, before the wind can catch it. She’s wearing one of last year’s summer dresses and already, the hem is far too short above her knees and the bodice too tight. Mohinder makes a mental note to ask Janice to take her shopping.

“Monica’s making pizza,” she explains. “We’re having a going away party in the rec room. You can come if you want?” she adds.

“No, sweetie, that’s okay. You go and have fun,” he says, as much as wants to ask her to stay. Two missed lunches in a week seems depressingly like the start of a trend Mohinder won’t be able to stop, as much as he might want to.

As Molly walks away, Mohinder sighs and turns his head carefully, trying to catch Gabriel before he makes his inevitable appearance. He twists right and left, double checking behind him, but no one is there. Self-consciously he glances under the table and, feeling only mildly foolish, up in the sky above; Mohinder wouldn't put it past Gabriel to use all of his abilities to ensure a suitably dramatic entrance. But, to Mohinder's disappointment, Gabriel is nowhere to be seen. After so many weeks of silently cursing Gabriel's name and failing to give him the slip no matter how he tried, Mohinder feels oddly adrift at finally finding himself alone. He picks at his food, gaze drifting lazily over the desert scenery, watching as the wind picks up a forgotten scrap of paper and it plays across the sand. In the distance, Mohinder spots Gabriel seated at another picnic table in the shade, nose buried deep in a book.

Gabriel jumps when Mohinder sets his lunch tray down opposite him.

“Mohinder!” he yelps, but Mohinder only chuckles.

“Not so funny when you're the one getting snuck up on, eh?”

“Ha ha,” Gabriel deadpans. The book had been slammed shut the minute Mohinder sat down and now it's laying next to Gabriel’s food, one of his wide palms splayed protectively over the cover.

“What're you reading?”

“Oh, nothing,” he hedges. He pulls the book defensively towards himself.

Thanks to empathy, their reflexes might now be matched, but Mohinder has the advantage of surprise. He steals the book from under Gabriel's hand, twisting his body out of Gabriel's reach when he tries to snatch it back.

Mohinder runs his fingers over the battered cover. The dust-jacket is plain with a painfully '80s font; Thomas Aquinas' 'Summa Theologica' isn’t the light summer reading he’s been expecting. Mohinder wracks his brain trying to recall his Classics, drawing on the Latin lessons he’d only half paid attention to the first time around. Long discussions of morality and good and evil had seemed like such a dusty, abstract thing in his cocksure days of youth. Mohinder wants to laugh at his younger self for thinking these esoteric philosophies useless, when now he spends his life trying to live the fine line so many scholars only talked about, nestled high in ivory towers.

Inside the front cover, an inscription is lettered in neat, faded ink:

_For My Dearest Gabriel, _

God Bless.

Love,   
Mother (Christmas, 1997)

Mohinder quirks a curious eyebrow and glances up at Gabriel, but his head is bowed and he's staring at his hands. Mohinder pages through the text; the margins are filled with Gabriel's spidery scrawl, letters so small and cramped together as to be barely legible. Page after page, chapter after chapter, any and all blank space has been marked up with his notes. Passages are underlined and words circled. Wobbly lines connect paragraphs where Gabriel has cross referenced one idea against another. A fragment highlighted in bright yellow catches Mohinder's eye.

“...good is to be done and promoted, and evil is to be avoided...” he reads aloud.

“Something like that,” Gabriel mutters.

Mohinder closes the book slowly and hands it back, head still reeling from what he's seen. Gabriel quickly shoves it into his bag, never quite meeting Mohinder's eyes. Mohinder tries not to remember the bloodied closet, graffitied with _Forgive Me_, that they both know he's seen.

Eventually, he says, “You don't have to study to be a good person, Gabriel.”

“Really?” Gabriel spits bitterly. “Because it isn't like it comes naturally, Mohinder.”

Mohinder rests his hand over Gabriel's, soothingly rubbing the back of his fingers where they curl tensely against the wooden slats of the picnic table.

“It seemed to come quite naturally when you saved Micah's life,” he prompts. “When you chose to come here, to do the right thing?”

Gabriel shrugs but doesn't reply, staring off, instead, into the middle distance, but after a minute or two passes, his hand relaxes under Mohinder’s and he cracks his neck. He gives Mohinder a sad, confused smile and plays with his food, pushing the peas around his plate.

Mohinder’s heart _aches_ for him. He searches for something to say, anything that will help Gabriel begin to forgive himself for a past that neither of them can change. But there are no words that will make everything better; in his darker thoughts, Mohinder isn’t quite sure that forgiveness, for either of them, is really possible. Perhaps, the best they can hope for is to live long enough to one day do enough good to outweigh what’s gone before.

Gabriel turns his hand under Mohinder’s so that they’re resting palm to palm, the tips of Gabriel’s fingers lightly brushing patterns over the delicate skin of Mohinder’s wrist. Under the table, Mohinder tangles his legs with Gabriel’s. They eat their lunch with their knees knocking together, the toe of Mohinder’s shoe caressing Gabriel’s ankle.

“Still not eating your vegetables?” Mohinder teases.

Gabriel looks up and grins. He pushes his plate towards Mohinder and Mohinder passes his to him. Mohinder finishes Gabriel’s salad while Gabriel eats the French fries that Mohinder always finds too greasy. And in that moment that reminds Mohinder so much of a Montana diner and key lime pie, two forks for one slice and whipped cream caught on the tip of Zane’s nose, things don’t seem so bleak anymore.

***

Dinner in the cafeteria is always chaotic. They sit at three large tables that have been pushed together; Matt passes round bread rolls while Monica pours the soda. Janice is the feeding the baby and Molly’s by her side, cooing. They make so much noise between them, that it’s easy to forget that there are other people there at all. Across the room, the Petrellis and Bennets eat together. Peter and Claire laugh animatedly while Angela, Noah and Nathan sit with their heads bowed in hissed conference.

Gabriel is nowhere to be seen.

“Who you looking for, doc?” Matt asks.

“Gabriel. I should ask him to join us; it’s only polite after he’s had to put up with me for two nights.”

“You never were the easiest roommate…” Matt teases.

“He doesn’t like to eat here,” Micah interrupts. “He says we’re too noisy,” he adds with a shrug.

***

Gabriel answers the door with a napkin still tucked under his chin. “Mohinder?”

“I missed you at dinner,” he says. “May I come in?”

“Yeah. Yeah, of course.” Gabriel stands aside to let him in, the look of surprise not quite faded from his face.

The camp bed is gone, and without it, the room looks even lonelier than before. Mohinder’s things are neatly packed in a bag sitting by the door.

“I was going to drop it off later,” Gabriel says gruffly as he clears his empty plate from the table. He dumps the dishes in the sink, smiling as Mohinder comes to stand beside him with a towel.

“If you wash, I’ll dry” Mohinder offers.

The plates Mohinder wipes down are cafeteria issue and, without the window open to air the room, the scent of overcooked lasagne lingers in the air.

“If you’re going to eat the cafeteria food,” Mohinder says, “you may as well eat it in the cafeteria.”

Quietly, Gabriel replies, “I’d rather eat alone in here than eat alone out there.”

Their fingers brush against each other when Mohinder takes a fork from Gabriel’s suds-covered hand.

“You don’t have to eat alone.”

“Who would want to eat with me?”

“Me?” Mohinder offers. He sinks his hand into the warm, soapy water, finding Gabriel’s hand among the dishes and linking their fingers together. “If you want to make friends, Gabriel, you have to be willing to actually talk to people.”

Gabriel squeezes Mohinder’s hand and shakes the soap off the other, cupping Mohinder’s chin lightly with damp fingers.

“Why would I want to do that when the only people I want to talk to seem to come to me?” he teases.

Gabriel leans in and kisses Mohinder gently, moaning softly into his lips when Mohinder presses forward, his tongue tracing over the roof of Gabriel’s mouth and his hands moulding to the curve of Gabriel’s ass. The washing up forgotten, they stumble the scant few steps to the bed, tripping over themselves as they collapse back on the sheets. Mohinder kicks off his shoes and stretches out over Gabriel, soap suds still glistening on his knuckles where his hands rest on the pillows, framing Gabriel’s face. Their kisses turn from soft and sweet to hungry; Gabriel’s hand glides up the back of Mohinder’s shirt as Mohinder unbuttons his, ducking down to nuzzle in the dark thatch of his chest hair.

Mohinder’s nails scratch lightly over the firm, flat plane of Gabriel’s stomach. Gabriel nibbles kisses to crook of Mohinder’s neck, and against his hip, Mohinder can feel Gabriel’s erection, thick and hot and hard through the denim of his jeans. He cups the front of Gabriel’s pants, sighing at the feel of Gabriel’s hips lifting off the bed, pushing up into his palm with short, shallow thrusts.

When Mohinder pulls back, Gabriel sits to follow but Mohinder presses at his shoulders. “Lie back,” he murmurs.

“Okay?” he asks as he unbuckles Gabriel’s belt, eager fingers plucking restlessly at the button of his fly.

When Gabriel groans a breathy, “_Yes_,” Mohinder drags the zip open with a shaking hand. He hooks his fingers in Gabriel’s waistband, catching both jeans and briefs at once as he tugs down. Mohinder’s own erection throbs at the sound of Gabriel’s freed cock slapping wetly against his belly.

Standing at the side of the bed with Gabriel’s discarded clothes in a heap at his feet, Mohinder runs his hands soothingly over Gabriel’s thighs, shushing him as Gabriel tries to reach for him. Mohinder wants to take a moment to appreciate the sight of Gabriel like this, legs spread, naked and wanting. Gabriel props himself up on his elbows to watch as Mohinder quickly strips.

Mohinder grips Gabriel by the back of his knees and pulls forward until Gabriel’s sitting on the edge of the bed while Mohinder stands before him. Mohinder kisses Gabriel deeply, his hands raking through his hair and stroking roughly down his neck. His palms skate over his shoulders and down his chest, fingertips teasing through his chest hair and tweaking his nipples lightly along the way. He caresses Gabriel’s stomach, swallowing the half giggle, half moan that spills from Gabriel’s lips at his feather light touch.

Mohinder pushes Gabriel’s legs apart and kneels between them. He looks up at Gabriel curled over him, at his dark, lust blown pupils and heavy lidded gaze, and leans forward to lick the tip of Gabriel’s cock.

“_Oh_,” Gabriel gasps.

“Okay?” Mohinder murmurs, mouthing along his shaft, moaning softly at the hot thrum of the thick vein he traces with his lips. He takes Gabriel’s low, desperate groan as a ‘yes’.

Gabriel’s fingers wind in Mohinder’s hair, his ragged breathing coming deeper and faster the quicker Mohinder ducks his head. Gabriel comes with a near silent sigh, his nails for a moment catching on Mohinder’s scalp as his body tenses and quivers. Then, his hands fall heavily to Mohinder’s shoulders, resting there to keep himself from doubling over in his afterglow, muscles slack and plaint. Mohinder nuzzles against his stomach, peppering pretty little kisses around his navel and savouring the taste of Gabriel’s semen that lingers in the back of his throat.

He mumbles Mohinder’s name over and over, and pulls him up by his shoulders, kissing him roughly as he holds Mohinder with two hands latched to his hips to keep him close. Gabriel licks a stripe along Mohinder’s hip and presses quick kisses to the tops of his thighs. He rests his forehead low on Mohinder’s belly, hot breath ghosting over the wet tip of Mohinder’s cock. Curious fingers curl around Mohinder’s length and hold him steady while soft, full lips suck an experimental kiss to his slit. Mohinder groans, swaying unconsciously forward, as Gabriel explores the head of his cock with tiny licks and a swirling tongue.

Suddenly, Gabriel draws back and coughs. “I’m sorry. I’m not sure I can--”

Mohinder’s kiss cuts him off, tongue sweeping past his lips to steal away his own taste from Gabriel’s mouth.

“S’okay,” Mohinder says, sitting beside him. He takes Gabriel’s hand in his own and licks his palm, guiding him to make a fist around his cock. “This is good too,” he promises.

They kiss as Gabriel strokes him, until Mohinder can’t catch his breath to kiss anymore, simply resting his lips, instead, against Gabriel’s, their noses nestled together. He comes over Gabriel’s fingers, stifling a grunt into Gabriel’s neck and letting Gabriel guide them both down to lie back against the bed with their legs still swinging over the edge.

They cuddle together lazily, kissing their way through a shared afterglow until Mohinder’s skin starts to feel itchy and tight where his semen has begun to dry. Reluctantly they break apart. Mohinder cleans first Gabriel’s hand and then his own groin, pulling the sheets over Gabriel when he starts to shiver. Mohinder looks at the clock that he’s been avoiding; the hour hand is nearing midnight.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I have to go. Molly.”

“I know,” Gabriel replies. “It’s okay.”

Mohinder dresses quickly, trying to smooth the wrinkles from his shirt and straighten his hair, but there’s no getting around it; he smells like sex and his cheeks have that tell-tale flush that only follows an orgasm. He has to hope Molly’s in bed and safely asleep when he gets home. He gives Gabriel one last kiss and tucks the blankets tight around him.

At the door, Mohinder pauses. “Since Virginia Beach,” he says.

“What?” Gabriel mumbles sleepily.

“Since Virginia Beach, Gabriel. That’s how long I’ve had the hots for you.”

“Me too.”


End file.
